


A Perfect Stranger

by Fightyourdragon



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Consent, Crossover, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Gift Fic, Light BDSM, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Pre-Skyfall, Q/John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fightyourdragon/pseuds/Fightyourdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q needs a night to relax after his first week at MI6 and he is determined not to go home alone.  John finally convinces himself to go out, determined not to spend another night alone in his bed thinking about Sherlock.  Two men walk into a bar...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Stranger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missMHO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missMHO/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for the wonderful MissMHO because she is awesome and deserves lots of happiness! You should all go read her fic also, because it is lovely- who doesn't love Sentinel Bond? : )
> 
> Special thanks to the beautiful Bootsnblossoms for a last minute beta!!

Q stared at the contents of his closet consideringly, trying to decide what outfit would best ensure that he wouldn’t be returning home alone.  It had been a long fucking first week as an MI6 employee and he needed to relax.  He rubbed absently at the light marks on the bridge of his nose left by his glasses and tried to forget the hours of entirely pointless training.  He couldn’t risk irritating his new employer by acting as if he were better than everyone else in his department right away.  Even if it was true.  He sighed in frustration as he selected black trousers and an indulgently silky shirt in a deep purple shade.  He dressed, put in contacts and mussed his hair artfully then stood in front of his full length mirror to assess the result.  Oh yes, he grinned.  He was definitely not coming back home alone.

 

John stared at the door to his depressingly empty flat and tried to convince himself to open it and actually go out for the evening for the first time in months.  He couldn’t handle another night spent lying in his bed consumed by thoughts of Sherlock.  It had gotten to the point that even he had to concede his therapist’s assessment that all of this solitude was unhealthy.  He wasn’t ready for a relationship, but maybe one night of good sex would help.  It really couldn’t make things worse at least, he decided.  He took a deep breath, stood, squared his shoulders and reminded himself that he was still three continents Watson, damn it, and walked out the door.  

 

Q chose one of the new establishments that had cropped up all over London recently.  Not quite a bar, not quite a club, but some confusing mix of the two that had the benefit of drawing a fairly mixed crowd.  He hadn’t decided what he was in the mood for yet, other than male, of course, and he was in the mood for a challenge.  He hadn’t yet settled on if he was in the mood for dominance or submission, but that tended to be determined by partner.  Not for the first time he decided that identifying as a switch was pretty awesome.  He was sipping a beer slowly, very aware that he needed to stay sober and he needed his partner sober as well, which meant he probably only had about another hour to find someone.  Much later than that everyone would be too drunk to be any good to him.  He had identified a few potentially interesting men when _he_ walked into the room and everyone else seemed to disappear.  

 

John wandered the streets for a while then finally settled on a bar with one of those odd names that sounded like the owner chose it by opening a dictionary, closing his eyes and pointing to a word at complete random.  The assault of sounds, smells and the crowded nature of the place almost made him turn and walk back out, but he steeled himself and kept going.  And damn Sherlock anyways, because John couldn’t stop himself from making rapid assessments of the patrons based on clues the average person would miss.  Well, maybe it would help him find a man who was interested, since he had no desire for the evening to end in a misunderstanding and a bruised jaw and it had been years since he’d sought out male companionship.  He finally made his way to the bar and ordered a beer, then edged his way to a wall to survey the crowd.  He doubted he would find what he was really looking for, but really how many tall, slender, dark and curly haired men could possibly be... Suddenly John’s knees threatened to buckle and he was grateful for the wall or he might have tumbled over.  He blinked hard and shook his head minutely, but when he opened his eyes the man who could have passed for Sherlock’s younger brother was still staring at him with a distinctly predatory look across the sea of people.  

 

Q smiled seductively and winked when the handsome man finally caught his eye.  For a few moments he stared at Q like he’d seen a ghost, albeit a ghost he really wanted to fuck if the desperate look in his eyes was anything to go by.  Then the man looked down for a second and back up at him, and Q’s gut reaction was to think, ‘mine.’  So, apparently dominance it was.  Even from across the room the man’s strength was apparent.  He wasn’t terribly tall, but solidly built and the dark jacket accentuated the breadth of his shoulders.  His stance hinted at something military, but that potentially lethal edge only made Q want him more.  He set his beer down and licked his lips then made his way slowly through the crowd, maintaining eye contact as best he could until he was close enough to be within what would generally be called someone’s personal space.  Q stretched a hand out and placed it on the wall just above the man’s head, noting how the man tensed fractionally as if on alert for a potential threat- definitely military- then leaned in closer to speak.  “So, do you want to do the dance of a drink and small talk, flirting, teasing little touches in order to ensure interest and then leave in an hour, or do you just want to skip all that and come back to my flat now?”  

 

John flushed at the man’s tone, not quite as deep as Sherlock’s but just as rich and addictive.  Then the actual words registered and he laughed in surprise, noting how the man’s grin only turned delighted rather than him appearing put off by the inappropriate response to his proposition.  “Christ.  That’s- I wasn’t expecting- I haven’t been here five minutes yet, sorry, wasn’t expecting it to be this easy.”

 

“I can make it more complicated if you prefer,” Q replied, loving the way the man’s cheeks flushed and he seemed torn between embarrassed and flattered.

 

“No!  Uncomplicated is fine.  Good.  How about names at least though.  I’m John.”  He tried to hold his hand out, but there really wasn’t much room between them.

 

“Q.”  He reached down and took John’s hand and pulled it up to his lips briefly, then guided it back down to rest at the small of John’s back and wrapped his fingers firmly around John’s wrist, testing his reaction.               

 

John’s breath hitched at the gentle indication of the way the slightly taller man clearly wanted this evening to go.  His brain was still scrambling to catch up with the sudden turn of events and deciding how to process being so close to this man who looked a bit like Sherlock and smelled amazing and, most importantly, wanted him.  Arousal spiked through him at the confident look on Q’s face.  He looked like a man who could make John forget, let him just exist and give over control, to take away the tension from so many months of trying so hard not to fall apart.  He  didn’t have any practical experience with submission, but he wasn’t completely ignorant either and tonight it sounded fucking perfect.  So he reached over to the bar and set his beer down then moved his other hand behind his back as well and tilted his head to the side, baring his throat and looking at Q as if daring him to continue.  

 

Q practically growled at the indication of submission, even though it was obvious the man didn’t clearly know what he was asking for.  Well, Q had wanted a challenge and this man, this John, was perfect.  He stepped closer and slid his other hand down John’s arm and around to his back even as he leaned in to run his lips over the gorgeous curve of John’s neck.  He was just about to bite when his knuckles brushed against something hard at the waistband of John’s trousers.  He felt John freeze and suck in a breath in an obvious, ‘oh fuck I forgot about that’ motion that was entirely genuine or Q might have been more concerned.  

 

John’s heart rate sped up as Q discovered the gun that he had entirely forgotten about.  John had gotten into the habit of carrying it around all the time and didn’t even think about removing it when he left the flat.   _Stupid, stupid,_ he cursed, just knowing Q was going to run away screaming from the man with the concealed weapon.

 

Q ran his fingers over the handle of the gun, delighted by the unexpected surprise.  It wasn’t as if Q was unfamiliar with weapons, what with his love of making lethal objects even more lethal.  In fact, it was quite the turn-on.  “Why John, you’re carrying... you’re even more full of surprises than I expected,” he whispered before biting down hard enough to leave faint pink marks on the skin just beneath John’s ear.

 

John gasped and arched into the delicious stinging sensation, shocked that Q wasn’t running.  “It’s not... I wouldn’t hurt you I swear... it’s just...”

 

“I believe you. You’re ex military, obviously,” Q murmured, laving his tongue over the mark.  “I’m not frightened, I’m impressed.  I’ve dabbled in weapons design myself.  I’m working on a palm reading interface that would allow a gun to be coded to only one user, actually.  That’s all I can tell you though; it’s very hush hush.”

 

“Christ, don’t tell me you work for the government,” John’s mind flashed uncomfortably to Mycroft for a moment.

 

“Guilty,” Q admitted.  “But I promise that won’t make me boring in bed.  Ready to go?”

 

“God yes,” John breathed as Q’s teeth teased at his earlobe.  Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be in this man’s bed. Or on his kitchen floor.  Whatever.

 

“Excellent.  I’m going to have such fun with you.  I’ll even let you keep the gun on the bedside table if you want.  It can keep my Walther company.”  He took John’s hand and began leading him towards the door, loving the way John laughed in obvious relief.

 

John assumed Q’s flat was in easy walking distance, and they spent the trip in a surprisingly comfortable silence, hands clasped as Q played at trailing his nails over John’s palm.  The sudden force of his desire surprised John, since it had been years since he was with a man- though how he survived without it after all those maddening months wanting Sherlock and not having was a mystery.  But he tamped down on that thought quickly, instead focusing on the ridiculously gorgeous man who he would be naked with before long.  He shivered at the thought and adjusted his half-hard cock.  John followed Q into his building and up a flight of stairs and watched as Q did something complicated with a security pad at the door before pulling him inside the flat and pressing him up against the closed door.   _Fucking finally!_ was all John could think when Q pressed his wrists to the door above his head and kissed him hard.

 

Q slotted his entire body against John’s and growled in appreciation of the muscle he could feel pressed against him as they kissed messily for a few moments before finding a rhythm that worked.  And fuck but John was a good kisser, and he tasted amazing once the flavor of beer had been licked away.  He reluctantly pulled away and looked carefully into John’s lust-glazed eyes as he spoke.  “I want to own you, just for tonight. I want to make you mine.  I want to make you incoherent with pain and pleasure so all you know is my touch, my mouth, my cock inside of you.  Condoms at all times.  But if you don’t like something, just tell me and I will stop.  Is there anything you really don’t want me to do?”  He could tell John was new to this- men and submission probably- and fancy things like safe words would just make him nervous unnecessarily, since Q knew he would never do anything another person didn’t want.  The entire idea was abhorrent to him.  

 

“I can’t think of... oh, just don’t gag me.”  The idea of not being able to voice ‘no,’ even though he doubted he would want to, frightened John a bit.  “And no riding crops,” he added, mind skittering sideways at the memory of Sherlock’s.  

 

“Perfect.  Now, come to bed.”  Q led John quickly into his room and immediately dragged John’s coat down his arms and tossed it aside.  He drew the gun out of John’s trousers and set it gently on the bedside table.  “I’d like you to strip for me, John,” he purred before moving to sit on the bed so he could watch John with deliberately obvious desire.  “Then I’d like you to kneel so that I can enjoy how you look at my feet.”

 

John shivered at the idea, torn between discomfort and lust.  But Q was looking at him with such desire, and suddenly John found he _wanted_ to please him, to make himself the center of Q’s universe.  So he nodded and began slowly unbuttoning his plain white dress shirt, giving Q what he hoped was a confident smile despite his nerves.  Because sure this was hot as hell, but he was standing in front of a complete stranger he was about to let fuck him and-

 

“John!”  Q stood and gave John an admonishing look.  “Come back to me.  I want your full attention,” he ordered sharply, gratified by the way John snapped to attention.

 

“Sorry... sir,” John tried out, surprised by how naturally the title fell from his lips despite his years in the army.  

 

Q smiled, pleased.  “Good.  That’s very good.  Now, continue.”  He began circling John closely; clearly he needed close proximity to feel comfortable.  It was such fun discovering a new partner.  

 

John took a deep breath when he got to the last button and let the shirt fall to the floor.  He tried to relax, but he was sure Q’s sharp eyes would catch his tension.  It was always difficult letting someone see him so exposed since his scars were far from attractive in his mind.  

 

“You’re stunning,” Q praised, trailing a hand along John’s lower back as he circled his way to the front and then paused, letting his eyes rake over the exposed skin of John’s lightly muscled chest.  “You have nothing to be nervous about,” he added, dragging his fingers up then letting his nails scratch lightly over the scar on John’s shoulder.  “This only makes you more unique.  More desirable.”  

 

John let out a shuddering breath of relief, suddenly even more determined to be perfect for this beautiful stranger.  “Shall I continue?” he asked, giving Q a teasing look as he hooked his thumbs into the band of his trousers.

 

“You’d fucking better.”  Q reached out and pinched one nipple, bringing it to a straining hardness as John jerked and swore.  “Don’t be quiet.  I want to hear you,” Q ordered as he looked down at John’s hands and pinched the other nipple harshly.

 

“Fuck,” John gasped as he unbuttoned his trousers then pulled down the zip quickly, all thoughts of finesse abandoned as Q circled around to press up behind him.  John’s breath hitched as sharp teeth latched onto the top of his left shoulder while Q looked down, still playing with his nipples and intent on John’s motions.  He let the trousers drop to the floor and kicked them out of the way then leaned back into Q, shivering at the feeling of his bare skin against that sinfully soft shirt.  

 

“Now the pants. Let me see that cock,” Q purred into John’ ear as he slid his hands down beneath the band to grip John’ hips hard.

 

John leaned his head back onto Q’s right shoulder then pushed his pants down, allowing a whimper to escape when his fully hard cock sprang free.  He closed his eyes and just let himself feel, taking Q’s tightened grip and low moan for approval.  

 

“Well aren’t you just perfectly built everywhere,” Q commented, eyes fixed on the slightly shorter but far thicker-than-average cock that jutted out from its nest of light curls.  He stepped away and stood in front of John, raising an eyebrow to indicate he was waiting.  

 

John sank to his knees slowly, feeling rather self-conscious because he’d never done anything like this before.  He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he just let them rest on his knees.  Was he supposed to look at Q?  He risked a glance up and his cock twitched at the enthralled look on Q’s face.  He was looking at John as if he was something precious, something wonderful, and suddenly John felt much more comfortable.  

 

Q went to unbutton his shirt, thinking John would feel better if he was at least partially undressed as well.

 

“Wait,” John began, then cut himself off, uncertain if he was allowed to ask for things.  Q simply cocked his head curiously, so John continued.  “Can I do that?  Please, sir?”  He refused to think too hard about why he wanted it, about how Sherlock owned a similar shirt that had never failed to make John’s mouth go dry.  

 

“Alright,” Q agreed, going to sit on the edge of the bed and beckoning John over.  There was definitely a personal reason for the request, but he would wait until later to ask about it.

 

John walked forward the few step on his knees and stopped between Q’s parted legs to reach up and undo the buttons one at a time.  He couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and kissing the pale skin each button revealed more of, but rather than admonishing him Q simply fisted both hands into his hair and gripped it tight enough to hurt.  John was surprised by how much he liked it.  By the time he was finally able to push the shirt down Q’s arms and off, he was painfully aroused.  “Thank you, sir,” he murmured into soft skin above Q’s navel.

 

“That was lovely, John,” Q praised.  “Now come up here and kneel on the bed, you’ll be more comfortable.”  As John moved to obey Q stood and went to retrieve condoms, lube, and a few lengths of soft white rope from his closet.  When he returned John was kneeling on the bed, cock shiny with the evidence of his arousal, his breathing rapid and eyes dark with need and anticipation.  He was fucking gorgeous.  Q climbed up and knelt in front of him then tilted John’s head up and kissed him fiercely.  “You’re incredible,” he purred as he ran the tip of one finger up the bottom of John’s heated cock.

 

“Fuck,” John hissed, digging his nails into his thighs to prevent himself from grabbing Q and dragging him down onto the bed and begging to be fucked.  

 

“Don’t move,” Q ordered as he slipped around behind John and leaned forward to grab his wrists and pull them behind his back.  He tied John’s wrists efficiently then created an elaborate ladder up to just above his elbows and secured the rope with another set of knotted braces.  John’s breath sped up, but he remained calm so Q didn’t ask if he was alright since John seemed the type to get irritated at that.  When Q was finished he sat back to enjoy his handiwork.  Then he urged John to kneel up so that he could slot himself up behind him, loving the way John’s chest  looked when his shoulders were pulled back by the ropes.  “You’re gorgeous,” he assured before reaching around to drag his nails harshly up John’s stomach as he bit his shoulder hard.

 

John moaned and arched his back as the sharp pain sent his nerves sparking to life.  “Fuck that’s good,” he panted even as he fought his instinctive urge to fight his way free of the rope.  He wanted it, but he was having a hard time letting go and that frustrated him.  

 

Q could sense John’s struggle, so he fisted a hand hard into his hair and wrenched John’s head towards him, forcing his neck into an uncomfortable angle as he kissed him forcefully, nipping at John’s lips until John finally submitted and let him take control of both the kiss and his body.  It was intoxicating.  “Yes, just like that John, you’re perfect,” Q approved as he slipped his free hand down to wrap around John’s cock.  

 

John shuddered and cried out, jerking in Q’s arms as a warm hand fisted his desperate cock.  He melted back against Q and just gave himself over to the other man’s control.  It was incredible.  In that moment he would have done anything, but it turned out all he had to do was writhe and make incoherent noises of pleasure as Q teased at his cock and bit, pinched, and scratched every inch of skin he could reach while still holding John upright.  When Q finally pushed him down onto the bed with a firm hand to the center of his back he went willingly, turning his head and laying it on the bed and moving his knees apart when Q tapped on the insides of them.  He was so far gone he only reflected for a moment on how vulnerable he must look, arse in the air and hands tied behind his back.  Then Q slid a pillow under his chest so he was more comfortable and all he could do was whisper, “Thank you sir” in a wrecked sort of voice.

 

Q swallowed hard and stripped his trousers and pants off quickly before climbing back onto the bed and biting the sensitive skin at the tops of John’s thighs.  He probably shouldn’t do this... he knew he shouldn’t trust his gut instinct that John was clean but he wanted it so badly and he would lay money on the fact that no one had ever rimmed John before...then John hummed in contentment and shifted back, waiting for whatever Q was going to do next and he gave up resisting.  He gripped John’s hips hard, leaned forward and licked a solid stripe from the base of John’s balls, over the tempting hole and up to the top of his arse. John’s entire body spasmed and the sound that tore from his throat was like nothing Q had ever heard and it shot straight to his libido. God but he was going to love this.

 

When John felt Q’s warm, wet tongue slide over his arsehole his body reacted without conscious thought.  It felt fucking amazing.  He’d been curious about rimming but never had the guts to ask one of his girlfriends and the few quick fumbles with men in the army didn’t lend themselves to an act this...intimate, was the word that ghosted across his sex-fogged mind.  Some sort of alarm was going off as well, but it took him a few more glorious strokes of Q’s tongue before he could process what it was.  “I’m clean...I’m a doctor,” he added nonsensically, as if that had any sort of relevance on his sti status.

 

“Thank fucking god,” Q breathed, any remaining reticence fading as he set to driving John mad with pleasure.  His own cock was bobbing against his stomach and leaking but he ignored it for now in favor of slipping the tip of his pointer finger into John’s arse alongside his tongue.  He smacked John’s arse sharply when his hips jerked forward instinctively.  “Hold still,” he commanded.  

 

John whimpered- there was no other word for it- and tried his best to do as Q asked.  His thighs trembled with the effort as he felt Q’s finger slide into his body as far as it could and it felt strange but definitely not bad.  He fought his body’s natural urge to resist the penetration, breathing deeply and forcing his muscles to relax because he didn’t want to give Q any reason to believe he didn’t want this.  He’d been fingered before, but it had always been a quick perfunctory prelude to a quick fuck and this felt so much better that he was actually rather upset at all the pleasure he’d missed out on.  Until Q slid in a second finger and brushed the tips across his prostate and he saw honest to god fucking stars and lost any hope of rational thought and just gave in to the pleasure.

 

By the time Q thought he had to be inside of John in the next three minutes or he would die, his jaw was sore and his lips and chin were wet with his own saliva but he was enjoying himself too much to care.  He sat back and untied Johns arms quickly then reached over to grab a condom and some lube.  He rolled the condom on quickly then urged John over to lie on his back so he could pull the gloriously muscular legs up over his shoulders.  He shoved a pillow under John’s lower back, squirted some lube onto his fingers, changed his mind, pushed John’s legs off again and scrambled up to kiss the hell out of him while he worked a few lubed fingers in and out of John’s now relaxed body.  

 

“Fuck, oh fuck but that’s good,” John panted, gripping Q’s hips and using the strength in his arms to shift Q up and down over him, loving the way their cocks rubbed together.  

 

“Oh god,” Q moaned, trying to remember that he was supposed to be in charge here because feeling John push him around like this felt damn good.  

 

“Yes.  Please yes, inside of me,” John growled as Q finally mustered the will to get down between John’s legs and situate them over his shoulders again.

 

Q took a deep breath and steeled himself to go slowly because he wanted John to enjoy this.  He wrapped his arms around John’s thighs, turned to kiss one knee and then pressed in gently.  For about two seconds.  Then John reached down and yanked him in hard enough that the slap of his thighs against John’s arse was audible.  He looked down at John’s wide eyes and pained expression with concern.  “Fucking hell John, this isn’t a race!  Are you okay?”

 

John took a moment to just breathe, because yeah, maybe he should have let Q go slowly but he wanted.  It was nothing like the pain of being shot, he could handle it, but he’d forgotten how much this burned before it felt good.  “I’m good, just give me a second,” he gritted out, tensing reflexively around Q’s length inside of him before relaxing and okay, that felt better.  He undulated his hips carefully and oh...yes, much better.  “You can move now,” he breathed, relaxing back into the bed.

 

“Hands above your head. Grab the pole at the bottom of the headboard and don’t let go,” Q ordered in a choked voice.  John obeyed immediately and damn, was he an attractive man.  His skin had a gorgeous sheen of sweat and his muscles shifted enticingly beneath his skin and Q felt a rush of affection that he hadn’t been expecting from a one night stand.  He tucked that stray thought away for later as John shot him a challenging look and Q gave him a wicked grin in return before he began slamming into the willing body beneath him in earnest.  

 

John gripped the pole hard enough that he knew his knuckles had to be white and he didn’t want to think about the noises he was making but he felt too fucking good to be overly concerned.  It was a different experience to have so little control, but he loved it.  Loved the way Q twisted his hips and angled them carefully as he thrusted until his cock was dragging over John’s prostate and his body felt electric with pleasure.  Loved the way Q would bite the skin he could reach and the way he looked every bit as desperate as John felt.  It didn’t take long before he felt his orgasm building and Q hadn’t even touched his cock since he’d entered him.  He threw his read back and tried to meet Q’s thrusts, chasing his pleasure without inhibition.  “I’m so close, so fucking... oh, oh god...”  He fell silent as his orgasm ripped through him because it was too intense to make a sound. Instead he arched his back as his arse gripped Q’s cock so hard the other man was forced to stop moving.  Which must have been okay, because his  hazy mind registered Q’s weight dropping down on him a few moments later along with the sting of Q’s nails on his sides and then there was blissful nothingness for an indeterminate amount of time.

 

After taking a few moments to stop trembling and begin breathing properly again, Q pulled carefully out of a completely sex-drunk, nearly passed out John.  He grinned in satisfaction as he rolled onto his back, stripped the condom off and tied it then tossed it off the side of the bed, wiped John down with a pillow case, then pulled John’s nearly dead-weight over to rest on his chest.  He pressed kisses into John’s hair and petted him gently, waiting smugly for the other man to return to reality.

 

John finally registered that his head was lying on Q’s chest and he was being... he struggled to find a less intimate word but there was nothing for it... cuddled.  After so many months alone it felt like heaven, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away in order to do the awkward goodbye thing and leave.  He wanted to stay and be touched as long as possible.  “So that happened...” he finally mumbled before kissing Q’s chest in what was probably a ridiculous display of affection for a perfect stranger.

 

“It did,” Q agreed with a smile.  John was clearly waiting to be kicked out but just as clearly didn't want to leave.  It was adorable and Q had no plans on letting him out of bed any time soon.  “I think you should stay the night.  I’m far too comfortable to let you leave.”

 

John let out a relieved sigh.  “Excellent.  I’m far too comfortable to go.”

 

“So,” Q began, carding his fingers through John’s messy hair.  “Want to tell me who I remind you of?”   

 

“What makes you think-”

 

“It’s obvious,” Q cut in, tilting his head curiously at the tension that phrase caused in John’s entire body.  “You looked at me like you’d seen a ghost, and you came with me far too readily for me not to remind you of someone.  Ex?”

 

“Not as such.  Heard of Sherlock Holmes?” John asked cautiously.

 

Suddenly connections started snapping into place in Q’s head.  “Oh, fuck.  I thought you looked familiar but it’s been a while and I didn’t remember... you’re _that_ John.  And I... sodding hell, I do look rather like him, don’t I?”  

 

“You do.  He even had a purple shirt that looked... well.”  John’s emotions were already rocked by the whole sex- really, really good sex- with a stranger thing and the mention of Sherlock had him blinking back tears. Great, now Q was going to think he was a complete freak.

 

“Tell me about him,” Q urged gently, sensing that John needed to talk and he had no problem listening.

 

John opened his mouth to refuse, but what came out was, “I hadn’t even know him for two days before I killed for him.”  Q’s grip on his shoulder tightened, but that was the only indication of his surprise.  “I loved him even then, I suppose.”  An hour or so later John was brushing away tears of mirth and Q’s chest was rumbling with delicious laughter beneath his head.  “And so he walked into Buckingham Palace stark naked except for a bed sheet!”

 

“Oh god, I wish I could have seen it!  That’s... hell, no wonder you were in love with him.  I think _I_ might be in love with him,” Q admitted with a laugh.  Poor John.  Clearly he’d been needing to talk, but needed the right person to talk to.  Q supposed he should feel weird hearing about who the man who the man he just fucked is in love with- there is clearly nothing past tense about it- but really he just felt honored that John chose him to tell.

 

“He was so clever, you know?  I mean really, really clever.  Sometimes....” John hesitated, because he hadn’t even told his therapist this.  “Sometimes I think he’s not really dead.  That he set it all up because he had to.  To protect the people he cared about.”  

 

Q considered everything he’d heard about Sherlock Holmes and everything John just told him and came to the conclusion that it might not be such a wild theory after all.  “You could be right, John.  I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I can help you find out if you’d like. If only to give you closure.  There isn’t a CCTV camera in the world I can’t hack, and I could use the MI6 satellites, run my own facial recognition software... if he’s alive in the world John, I can find him.”

 

John sat up and looked down at Q in shock.  “You believe me?  You could do that?  I mean, you _would_ do that? You don’t even know me.”  

 

Q looked up at John seriously.  “I know I like you.  I know you carry a gun and you killed a man to save your best friend and you’re stupidly in love with him.  I know I love a good mystery and this will put my skills to the test and this is just the kind of thing I will need to be able to do if I want to move up in my job.  And if your theory is correct, he obviously loves you too.  But John, we’ll have to be careful.  If he is alive and he didn’t tell you about his plan, obviously there are some dangerous factors you are unaware of and I don’t want you finding him only to get either him or yourself killed.”

 

“Right. Of course. I know it’s a long shot, Q, but you have no idea what it would mean to me if I could know for sure if he’s coming back.”  John stopped just short of adding ‘to me,’ but he could tell Q heard it regardless.

 

Q sat up as well and crawled over to grab his laptop from the bedside table.  “Okay, let’s do this.  But if we find you the love of your life, you fucking owe me and you need to find one for me too,” he teased.

 

“Of course!  Anything.  I’m thinking right now, promise.  What’s your type?” John asked, sitting cross legged next to Q and arranging the pillows for them to lean on comfortably.

 

Q looked at John incredulously.  “You’re serious?”

 

“Of course I am.  Look, this was fun.  Fucking incredible, really.  But I can’t be shagging you while you’re trying to track down my potential boyfriend now can I?”

 

Q laughed.  “Fair point.  Okay, gay or bisexual man.  I’m a switch, so could be dominant or submissive, which makes it easier. Muscular.  Blonde.  Able to deal with the fact that I design weapons and could blow him up if he breaks my heart,” he added, half as a joke.

 

John’s eyes went wide at that last one.  “Oh.  Oh god, he would be fucking _perfect_.  How do you feel about gone for months at a time and probably kills people for a living, potentially emotionally damaged but loyal as hell, and really actually caring and surprisingly gentle if you can get past the bullshit macho exterior.  Fucking fantastic in bed, though I only have anecdotal evidence on that last one.  Oh, and he loves shit that explodes.”

 

“I’m intrigued,” Q admitted, watching as John scrambled out of bed and dug around in his trousers for his mobile.  

 

“We don’t talk often, but I saved his life once when he was on a mission in Afghanistan- don’t even ask, crazy classified- so he owes me one blind date with a hot man at the very least.”  He opened his mobile and typed out a short text.  “If he’s in the country, he’ll reply.”  

 

“It’s after midnight,” Q pointed out skeptically.

 

“Don’t worry, he’s up.”  A second later John’s text alert went off.  “Told you. Smile!” he said as he held up his mobile and took a picture of a decidedly debauched looking Q and sent it along with a message.  Approximately five seconds later he got a message in return and turned to Q with a grin.  “Well that’s settled.  Tomorrow night you have a date with James Bond.”  

 

 


End file.
